


The Tale of Red Spark and Black Blizzard

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Former mafia-member Jack, M/M, Superhero Mark, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jack is being chased by the mafia, and has no one else to turn to, so he goes to the only place he can think of: his almost arch-nemesis' house. Lucky for him, his arch-nemesis is too much of a softy not to help him.-Rated T for language-





	1. Something Important

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first Septiplier fic for this account! This one was also inspired by my good friend, so thank her so much for that!  
> I know the title is horrible, I'm really bad at those and will probably change it later... ^^  
> I hope to update every week :D

Before you start reading this fic. I have something important to say. This fic as well as the ship it’s based on are completely fictional, and have nothing to do with the real Mark or Jack. I personally don’t ship Septiplier in real life. I respect their real life relationships, and I respect Amy and Signe, and would never send hate to them in any capacity, and I want to say that if you do, you have no place here.

And now, after my rant, please enjoy the fic :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!  
> Comments, Kudos and criticism are all always appreciated, just please be nice, I am fragile ^-^


	2. Just My Luck + Mornings are awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and Kudos! I never thought I'd get such a positive reaction!  
> I hope you enjoy this new chapter! :D

Just My Luck

Knock.  
Did he fall asleep in front of the TV again? Yeah, that must be it.  
Knock knock.  
Ok, not the TV… but who could it be at this hour?  
What hour even was it?  
Knock knock knock.  
It sounded urgent. Mark cracked open his eyes. He rummaged through the various stuff on his bedside table, eventually landing on his glasses.  
Knock knock knock knock.  
“In a minute!” he yelled, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and wrapping himself up in his blanket to keep out the cold. It was still dark outside. He squinted, trying to read the time from clock on his wall.  
4:30.  
4:30? Who in their right mind would knock on his door at 4:30 in the morning? His only friends lived in other states-  
Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock.  
“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” he yelled. “Jesus…” He dragged himself out of bed and into the hallway. He almost fell over the shoes scattered across his living room (twice), then tiredly stumbled his way to the front door. Somewhere in his head, he realized he should probably try and see who it is before opening the door, but it was too early in the morning for him to question himself as he rubbed his eyes and opened the door.  
A blur of green hair. A pair of irritated, icy blue eyes. A black leather jacket tightly hugging a black t-shirt wearing torso, with matching black skinny jeans and all-black all stars. A beige messenger bag hanging loosely across one shoulder, and black gauges studding slightly pointed ears. Mark rubbed his eyes again, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The man in front of him crossed his arms and started tapping his foot in annoyance.  
“Black Blizzard?” Mark said slowly.  
“Took ya long enough, flame boy.”  
“Huh?”  
“Look,” his head snapped to both ends of the hallway leading to Mark’s apartment door, as though he was checking for anyone following him, “Can I come in for a minute?” He fixed Mark with a sharp glare, quirking an eyebrow.  
“Uhm…” Mark blinked. He was too tired for this.  
“Well?” He now drummed his fingers on his arms as well as tapped his foot. Mark blinked again, gathering his thoughts.  
“Why?”   
Black Blizzard sighed exasperatedly.  
“Because the Mafia are chasing me and you’re the only super-powered person I know who isn’t with them.”  
“Right.” Mark blinked again. He later realized he probably should have been worried about his own safety, seeing as the Mafia were after Black Blizzard, and Black Blizzard was here at his door, but his sleep deprived brain just didn’t put two and two together. “Fine, come in.” he stepped out of the way and gestured for him to come in. He stepped in carefully, looking around him. mark turned on the living room light, and locked the door. Then it hit him.  
“Wait, how do you know who I am? How do you know where I live?” his eyes widened.  
“You’re pretty obvious, Red.”  
“Obvious?”  
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but not a lot of people have a red Harley Davidson lying around.” he rolled his eyes.  
“Oh. Right.” Mark scratched the back of his neck.  
“It’s pathetic, really.” Black smiled smugly.  
“What is?”  
“Your attempts at hiding your identity. You change at public fockin’ restrooms, Red. It’s ridiculous.” Mark could think of at least three comebacks for that comment.  
“You wanted to talk about something?” he said instead. Black’s face hardened again.  
“Yeah. Do you know a place where I can lay low? Get away from the Mafia until this all blows over?” Mark narrowed his eyes. He knew the Mafia weren’t forgiving. They hunted down and took care of even the most minor of their recruits for treachery or for messing something up. But he also knew that Black Blizzard was very highly ranked in the Mafia. He must’ve done something extremely bad to have the Mafia on his tail.  
“What did you do?”  
“That’s not the point!” he snapped. Then he took a deep breath. “Look, do you know a place or do you not?”  
Mark thought on this for a while. He had an idea, but he didn’t really like it, and he suspected Black wouldn’t really fancy it either.  
“As much as I hate to suggest it… I think,” he stopped, making sure that he really was going to say this to his almost arch-nemesis, “That the logical solution…” then again, Mark did pride himself on giving people second chances, “Is for you…” Does he really want to do this? This could mean having the Mafia on his tail too. But what kind of hero would he be if that’s what would stop him from saving a life? “To stay at my place until you’re safe.” He finished quickly, shutting his eyes, afraid to see the response. He heard a scoff.  
“What?” He said, incredulous. Well, actually, it was more of a ‘Hwat’ rather than ‘What’, but Mark thought it best not to point that out.  
“I don’t know any safe places, and going looking for one would mean risking getting caught on security cameras, so it’s better to disappear from the grid.”  
“I can hide from security cameras, unlike someone here, thank you very much.”   
Mark pretended not to hear that.  
“Yeah, but people will still see you. Eventually you’re going to have to go buy food, or supplies, and the cashier will see you, and even if he’s the nicest person and won’t rat on you willingly, I’m willing to bet the Mafia has their ways to get information out of people.”  
Black considered this. Actually, he took a very long time to consider this. So long, in fact, that Mark had managed to make them some coffee by the time he decided.  
“Fine. But I’m not doing your dishes or covering for you at work or whatever you heroes do when you’re not out heroing.” He said with a little too much spite for Mark’s taste.  
“Deal. You can have the couch, there’s a spare pillow and blanket in the dresser there. Now can I go back to sleep?”   
Black Blizzard nodded shortly, grumbled something about ‘fockin heroes’ and curled up in a ball on the couch. Mark himself trudged to his bed and threw himself on it, falling into an uneasy sleep.

Mornings are awkward

The morning took Mark by surprise. His brain somehow decided it was a good idea to erase last night’s encounter from its data banks until seeing Black Blizzard sprawled on his couch like a rag doll. Mark nearly leapt out of his own skin, knocking over a stack of video games in the process – but thankfully, Black stayed asleep. Mark decided to use this to his advantage – while they were stuck in the same house, might as well be on somewhat of good terms with each other, right? So he walked to the kitchen, made two cups of steaming hot coffee, decided making breakfast for the both of them was taking it too far, and made his way to the sofa, where Black Blizzard was still lying, apparently unfazed by all the noise around him.  
“Uh…” Mark started, then realized he didn’t even know the guy’s real name. “Um, Black?” nothing. “Black Blizzard?” he tried, but got no response. He shook his shoulder lightly. Still nothing. “Black Blizzard, buddy.” He shook his shoulder, a bit more forcefully this time. “Buddy, I kind of need-“ he was cut off by a sharp cold taking over his entire arm, encasing it in ice and freezing him to the bone. Black Blizzard’s eyes shot open as he jumped out of the couch, and fixed Mark with another one of his cold glares. ‘Okay,’ Mark reasoned as he tried to regain his breath and calm his heart, ‘I must’ve scared him. First night in an enemy’s home and all.’ He took a deep breath and sparked a heat from the tips of his fingers, working his way upward and thawing the ice. He offered Black Blizzard his coffee with his other hand. He took it, sniffed it, then took a careful sip.  
“Don’t try to wake me up.” He said shortly and walked to the kitchen. Mark blinked, his hand now thankfully back to normal. To be honest, he was quite taken aback. He wasn’t expecting Black to be nice or anything, but after freezing off the hand of a man who made you coffee in the morning, you’d expect an apology, or a ‘You scared me.’  
The least Black could have done was give Mark that warning yesterday.  
“Fine.” He said, more to himself than anything. “Must be a first-day kind of thing. I’m sure he’ll be better tomorrow.” Instead of over-analyzing the situation, like he tended to do, he decided to get to work. He picked a random game, inserted it into his console and started a new file. He made sure he was comfortable on the couch, opened a new page in his notebook, checked his pen was working, and started playing.  
After what felt like a mere 5 minutes’ time, Black walked back in, leaning on the couch.  
“Whatcha doing?” he sounded bored.  
“Working.”  
“How is playing video games working?”  
“I’m a game tester.”  
“Right, cause that’s a real job.” he mocked. Mark rolled his eyes. Black eyed the game for a short minute, then just walked away. Mark didn’t bother to ask where he was going. Honestly, he couldn’t care less. He didn’t notice the time’s passage at all, completely enamored by this new indie game he was testing.  
“Boo.” Black appeared behind him, nearly giving Mark a heart attack.  
“Jesus, you scared the crap outta me.” Black just rolled his eyes and plopped onto the couch as well, as far away from Mark as he possibly could.  
“Aren’t you hungry or something? It’s like 2pm.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, can’t you read the time?” he said sarcastically. Mark was taken aback once again, then reminded himself that this was a member of the Mafia he was talking to. You didn’t really expect a guy like that to be all smiles and charm.  
“Sorry, this game completely sucked me in. it’s really good.”  
“Yeah, yeah, save the geeky stuff for your notebook or whatever. What are we having for lunch?” He bounced his knee. ‘Wow.’ Was all Mark could think. ‘This guy is a huge dick. Like, this is a new level of dick.’  
“We can order takeout if you want…” he said slowly.  
“Sounds good. Tell me how much it costs, I’ll pay you half.” Black said and got off the couch. ‘At least he’s willing to pay for his food…’ Mark thought.  
He ordered some Chinese takeout, and they ate silently, Mark slightly picking at his food with the chopsticks.  
“What’s on your mind?” Black asked, once again sounding bored. He confused Mark, if he was being honest. Mark thought about a lot of things: the new game, his precarious situation, the Mafia, the fact that he knew about as much about Black as he did about sloths…  
“I just realized we don’t even know each other’s names.” He said quietly.  
“So?” Black responded after a bit of silence.  
“Well, I dunno, it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? I mean, we’re practically roommates-“  
“Whoa there, don’t get ahead of yourself. I am by no means your roommate. I’m just crashing here because there’s some trouble at the Mafia. Besides, the less we know about each other the better. We’re practically arch-nemeses, remember? And it’s not like I’m gonna stay here that long anyway.” Mark shrugged, slowly getting used to Black’s dick-ishness.  
“Wait, do you even have like a toothbrush and spare clothes and stuff?”  
“Well yeah, I brought some for a couple o’ days, obviously.”  
“Right.” The awkward silence returned. “Well, I should probably get back to work.”  
“Yup.” Black supplied helpfully, left the table and sprawled out on the couch, putting in his ear buds. Mark rolled his eyes and cleaned the table, thinking it could be worse. Black had said he wouldn’t even stay here that long. He was a terrible roommate, but Mark had bad roommates before, so it shouldn’t be such a problem. Right?  
Boy, were they both wrong.


	3. Video Games and Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fall into an almost daily routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah or just happy regular day to you!  
> I will probably update this story more often now, hopefully once in two days!  
> Also, I created a Tumblr for this account, it's @tastybrownie (tastybrownies was taken), so feel free to follow me there!

“Whatcha doin’?” Black appeared at Mark’s door. Mark jumped.

“Seriously, I’m considering putting a bell on you.” He clasped his chest, where his heart was beating fast. “Just testing out this PC game. It’s…” Mark started, but then remembered Jack didn’t really care for video games. Yet, he pulled up a chair and sat next to Mark, his eyes transfixed on the game.

“The style is beautiful…” he muttered so quietly Mark almost didn’t hear him.

“Yeah, it is. Really adds to the atmosphere of the game, as well as the simplistic soundtrack.” Mark moved forward in the game, encountering a door to an old warehouse, when a flock of chicks appeared, surrounding the little boy that was Mark’s character.

“Are those little chickatees?!” Black exclaimed.

“Yeah, they’re pretty adorable.” Mark chuckled lightly.

“Aww… they’re following you around!” Black stared at the screen, excited. From the corner of his eye, Mark looked at Black, studying his reactions. He was smiling widely, and his eyes were sparkling with genuine excitement. Mark had never seen him like this – it wasn’t the douchebag attitude he was used to from Black. He hadn’t noticed he was staring until Black turned to him, and his eyes hardened with that same sarcasm again.

“What are you staring at?” he sneered.

“N-nothing. Just… lost in thought.” Mark cleared his throat and got back to the game, and Black left.

Mark spent the next few hours finishing the game (it was called Inside) and writing his report. By the time he finished, the sun had already set, and feeling he could use some activity, he decided to go running.

“Where are you going?” Black asked with that bored voice again as Mark approached the door.

“For a run.” He replied shortly.

“Good decision, you look like you need it.” He called. Mark stopped in his tracks, confused.

“What’s that supposed to…?” He started, but when he turned around he saw Black smirking smugly, so he just rolled his eyes and exited the apartment.

***

After the second time Mark had to start his work day with a frozen arm, he decided to just move the PlayStation to his room. Black continued to ignore Mark unless the game he was testing caught his attention, and so he continued to ignore Mark’s request to clean up his own dishes. Mark scrolled through the different games he had to test, his eyes falling on a recent one he remembered supposedly had a unique style. Even though Black was being a douche, maybe Mark could be on better terms with him if they had a common interest, like video games, he tried to convince himself as he walked into the living room.

“Uh… Black?”

“Yes, flame boy?”

Mark rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“I was wondering if you’d maybe want to try out this new game with me.”

Black stopped scrolling through his phone for a minute, looking slightly confused. Then he shrugged and got up, following Mark to his room.

“So this game is called Ori and the Blind Forest, and I heard it’s supposed to have a really unique…” Mark trailed off slightly, realizing Black was actually listening, “… style…” he finished, shaking himself out of it. The opening scene began:

_A storm is shaking the forest, as a deep voice starts talking in a foreign language. **We shall always remember the night… When I lost Ori in the great storm.** The storm is accompanied by the sound of a piano and a soft voice singing in high notes. The tree in the middle of the forest stands taller than all, and as the voice finishes talking, we see the tree up close. A small, white leaf is shaking violently in the wind, before mere seconds later it is torn from it and carried away in the wind, leaving a sparkling trail of light. _

“The style really is beautiful…” Black muttered.

_The leaf spins in the air, twirling around branches and flying with the wind against the harsh rain. As the moon is revealed behind the storm clouds, so is a small cliff. On its edge, sitting on its own, is a furry black creature with a white face. Behind the creature stands the lonely leaning branch of a tree, a small tuft of leaves keeping it warm. The white leaf whizzes past the creature, drawing its attention, and it looks towards the direction in which it flew off, getting up to follow it._

_Mark gains control of the black creature. He walks to the left, where the leaf flew off, as a title appears on-screen: Swallows Nest. The scenery is beautiful: the bushes and trees are shaking in the storm, and the rain filters through the forest. The leaf lands on the thick root of a tree. It glows brightly, enough to make the creature cover its eyes. The light dies down, and the creature immediately uncovers its eyes and steps closer, examining the little leaf. The little leaf turns out to be a small creature as well. It was white, and resembled a cat with big, floppy ears._ **_When she embraced our light…_** _The black creature, presumable ‘she’, picks up the smaller one, cradling it in her arms. **As a child of her own.** The white one wakes up in a nest-like bed made of leaves. The game continues by teaching the player the mechanics of the game to scenes of Ori and their adopted mother building a bridge over the small lake near their abode in order to reach and apple tree. **Let us remember the night…** A light flashes in the distance, catching Ori’s attention. They carry fruit across the bridge, **When I lit the skies ablaze.** Ori continues his journey to the right of the screen, **I called out to Ori.** As they reach a small hill, a burst of shining light appears in the distance behind Ori, and they drop their fruit in awe. Their mother quickly comes running after them, picking them up and shielding them from the light, taking them back into their abode. Their days flash by, as they are cuddling together, and the mother puts Ori in their bed. **Yet hope never came.** Mark gains control of the mother, who walks tiredly, realizing they had run out of food. She exits the cave, and looks to the distance, where once a great tree stood. Now, it was naked and scarred. The mother continues through the forest, trying to shake the leaves, in hope of collecting fruit, but there are none. **I recall the years…** The mother sees two fruits on a high branch of one of the trees. She attempts to climb it, but the branch she hangs on breaks, and she falls to the ground. **Of frailty and decay…** the mother picks herself up heavily, and returns to the cave, offering Ori the last of the fruit. **When the forest was blind…** She sits down heavily, and Ori looks at her, puzzled. They offer thir mother the fruit, but she declines, smiling, and goes to sleep. Ori decides to go looking for fruit, and Mark gains control of him once again. Ori climbs the trees and shakes some fruit off of them, collecting them in their arms and starting their journey back to the cave. **And hope showed its face.** Shadows of Ori’s memories in the forest appear as they journey back, showing them and their mother eating, playing, building the bridge. Their mother carrying them into the cave as the fire started. Ori hurries into the cave, proud to show their mother the fruit, but as they offer the fruit to their mother, they realize something is wrong. They approach slowly, nudging their mother with the fruit. When their mother still doesn’t respond, they drop the fruit in favor of shaking their mother’s arm, trying to wake her up, but she doesn’t respond, and Ori jumps on her, to discover she merely falls back, no life left in her body. They whimper, and curl up on their mother’s body, as the screen cuts to black. _

Mark can hear Black sniffling.

“That was amazing…” Mark mutters. “I’ve never bonded to a character so quickly then had it die in a game before…” Black sniffles again, then gets up and leaves the room altogether. Mark thought it best to leave him alone, afraid he would only upset him further. Black didn’t talk to him again that day.


	4. Run Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are better left untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all of the support! It's really amazing!  
> Following all of the shit that's surrounding this ship lately, I added something important as the first chapter and put the first and second chapters as chapter 2. I think it's something that should definitely be said, so I'm sorry for the awkward change but I'm happy I did it.  
> Anyways, enjoy!

Black seemed to be back to normal after that, which was only proved by the fact that he was pacing around the house and declaring his boredom at any given opportunity, and still calling Mark ‘flame boy’. All of these would probably explain why it was the third time that week that Mark woke up to Black’s dishes clogging up the sink, and he’d had just about enough of it. He could deal with Black being a mood-swinging hazard, with his habit of using Mark’s computer without asking for his permission, his constant jabbing at Mark and his making fun of everything Mark said or did, but he believed that doing the damn dishes was the least he could ask of Black Blizzard. He talked to him about it several times by now, but every time, Black just waved him off and stuck his ear buds in his ears. Mark reasoned that it could cure the boredom he kept complaining about, but Black never listened. And so he found himself sighing exasperatedly, and stomping into the living room, quite pissed off.  
“I realize that you refuse to call yourself my roommate, but the least you could do as thanks for letting you crash here is doing your own damn dishes. I never ask you to do literally anything else in the house, so it would be nice-“   
Black turned his head to him. The look in his eyes made Mark want to hide. It wasn’t just cold – that Mark was used to – it was murderous. And there was something else – his eyes were red, and puffy. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was-“  
“Fock off, flame boy. Don’t need your pity. I’ll do the fockin’ dishes later.”  
“I’m sorry, Black, I-“  
“Go. Away.”   
Mark swallowed thickly, and disappeared into his room. He spent the rest of the day drowning his guilt in his work, writing the report about Ori and the Blind Forest, which somehow made him feel even more guilty as he remembered that game made Black cry. He started the first morning Black had stayed with him.  
Night came before long before he had finished his report. He squinted at the clock- it read 2:00. ‘2 am,’ Mark thought. ‘Great.’ He pulled the ear buds out of his ears and stretched, intent on going to sleep immediately – but then he heard something. Soft sobbing, coming from the living room. Judging by Black’s reaction this morning, Mark decided it would be best if he left it alone for now. He curled up in his blankets and closed his eyes. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep. It happened again the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, until Mark started hating himself for not trying to make Black feel better. So on Saturday morning, he made him some hot chocolate, placed it on the coffee table in front of him, and patiently waited in his room, playing another indie game to pass the time until Black woke up.  
“What’s this fer?” Black appeared in the doorway with his mug. Mark clutched at his chest, seriously starting to consider tying a bell around Black’s neck. Instead, he sat on his bed and petted the empty space next to him. Black looked at him suspiciously, narrowing his eyes, and it took at least 2 minutes of eye-battle until Mark finally gave up.  
“I just thought… Do you… maybe want to talk about it?”   
Black’s eyes softened for a millisecond, then hardened back to their icy stare.  
“Talk about what? Your horrible taste in interior design?” He smirked. Mark curled his hands into fists, barely keeping himself from just storming out of the room altogether.  
“No. I actually meant…” He hesitated.  
“Spit it out, then.”  
“I just… I heard you. At night. Sobbing, I mean.” Before Mark could blink, Black’s nose was inches from his, his hand fisting Mark’s shirt.  
“You heard nothing, amadán.” He let go and started walking away, but before he could, Mark grabbed his arm.  
“Look, it’s fine to cry. I get it, really.”  
“You don’t ‘get’ anything, amadán, and you never will. And don’t try to go on and lecture to me about how it’s ‘ok to show emotion, and let it all out,’ because you have no idea what I’m going through, and never will, so don’t even try to pretend that you do. Fockin’ hero gobshite.” And then he truly did storm out, leaving only a trail of black lightning in his wake. Mark shook his head, confused. No, actually, he wasn’t confused, he was mad. And that’s exactly what he’s going to tell Black. He stormed out after him, his anger only building up.  
“Listen, you speeding piece of shit, I didn’t ask for you to come barging into my daily life, ok?! I let you stay in my house, I practically don’t ask anything of you even though I really should be, I’ve been nothing but nice to you, I made you a mug of hot fucking chocolate and tried to comfort you, and you go ahead and just treat me like a dick! You know, I don’t even know why I care. I should have never even let you stay here!”   
Suddenly, Mark stopped.   
His brain processed his words too late. What was he thinking? Black was clearly going through a hard time, and he just – “Oh my god, Black, I’m sorry. I just – I got really pissed off, and – I swear I didn’t mean it like that.”   
Black just stared at him with those cold blue eyes, but this time they were completely void of emotion.  
“No, you shouldn’t apologize, Red. You’re right. You never should have taken me in. I ruined your perfect little life, didn’t I? I’ll just get out of your hair now.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, and exited the house in a flash, a final, sarcastic “Thanks a lot, bollix.”  
Mark sat on his now empty couch. He should be relieved, right? His life could return to normal now. His mind ran through their conversation again. Yeah, Black definitely deserved to be out to fend for himself, right? Especially after calling him all those colorful things that Mark definitely didn’t want to translate, and definitely didn’t sound good coming out of Black’s mouth (shut up, small part of my brain).  
So why did he feel like he just had a major fight with his best friend?


	5. It Haunts Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has run away, but Mark can't let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the nice comments!   
> I will continue to update once in two days.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter! :D

He paced around in the house, trying to convince himself it wasn’t his fault Black left. He opened the TV in hopes of distracting himself from his over-thinking. The TV flickered to life, and before Mark even saw anything, he knew it was bad:  
“After almost a month of silence, there seems to be an attack by the Mafia in the mall on 5th Brook Street-“ he shot out of the couch, grabbed his keys, practically jumped down the stairs and threw himself on his motorcycle. He raced out of the parking lot and into the street, almost running over a pair of old ladies in his haste. The guilt was eating at him from the inside like a bug, making his stomach churn and his chest ache. He knew it was his fault that Black left. It was his fault that he was being attacked now. His fault if he…  
He turned the handle of his bike, increasing the speed.  
When he arrived, everything was silent. The mall was completely empty, tables sticking out of walls and clothing thrown everywhere haphazardly. A black trail of smoke on the floor told Mark he probably arrived just on time. It snaked around jewelry booths and food stands, winding around the shops and ending at the McDonalds on the other side of the mall. Mark followed carefully, suddenly painfully aware that he hadn’t even put on his costume. He stepped into the shop, and the sight that greeted him there was one he’d never forget. There was Black, curled up on the floor in a corner, shaking and sobbing quietly, rocking back and forth. Mark tried to reach out, to say something – but then a cold tendril of smoke snaked its way around his neck, curling around his throat and squeezing it.  
“When will you learn to keep your nose out of other people’s business, Red?” someone whispered into his ear. The smoke around his throat slowly solidified into an arm… and an arm you can burn. Mark closed his eyes and took as much air into his lungs as he could, ignoring the tight hold the arm had on his throat. He focused on directing his energy – from the air entering his lungs, to his heart, getting warmer, warmer, passing through his veins, flowing through his arms and to his fingertips, filling them with heat, getting hotter and hotter, until he could feel the familiar prickle of fire in his palm. A surge of comforting warmth burst through him, filling him with power. He lifted his hands and pressed them firmly to the arm around his throat, satisfied to hear a pained cry coming from behind him. He turned, facing the offender, who now held his arm gingerly.  
“Is there anyone in the Mafia who doesn’t know my secret identity?” He breathed out, panting.  
The figure in front of him glanced over to Black, then fixed his eyes in Mark and bared his teeth. He reached out with his arm, and it turned to smoke and curled around Mark, encircling him and blocking his vision. Mark closed his eyes, breathed in again, and willed his arms to light on fire. The smoke recoiled, but continues its advance.  
“Let’s try this!” he called and waved his arms through the smoke. Nothing happened. “Well, shit.” The smoke quickened its approach, wrapping around Marks torso and face, suffocating him. he fell to his knees, coughing. Everything was black, muffled, blurry, painful. Why was he here? He couldn’t remember. His head hurt, his lungs were screaming for air, his heart was too loud in his ears. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t think, this was it, he was going to-  
“F-flame boy?”   
It was Black. But, that wasn’t right. His voice was broken, shaky. It held none of the cockiness Mark was used to, and it was just so wrong. He never wanted to hear Black like that. Suddenly, he gasped. That’s it! That’s why he’s here.  
He forced his eyes open, and they burned, but he didn’t care. He was going to take this bastard down, and he was going to take Black home, like any normal fri-no wait, more like acquaintance would do. Yeah!  
Mark quickly went through every weapon he knew in his head, finally settling on the Air Propulsion Gun. It materialized in his hands almost instantly. He aimed it at where he remembered the guy was standing, and shot. Not a second later, he was spiraling in the air towards the unknown. It was all very cool, to be honest, but that wasn’t what Mark was worried about. He scrambled to his feet and ran to Black, scared to touch him, to drive him away again.  
“Black? Buddy? Can you hear me?” he said silently. Thankfully, he had stopped rocking by now. He was silent, breathing slowly. “Black?” Mark almost whispered. He breathed a sigh of relief when Black nodded. “Good. Come on, I’m taking you home. D’you need to lean on me?” Black shook his head, and stood up on his own, eyes trained on the floor, ready to follow Mark. Mark’s chest was tight – Black wasn’t supposed to be like this. No, he was supposed to be icy, intimidating, powerful – not broken and hollow like this. If his eyes were strong glaciers before, now they were all cracked and melting. Mark shook himself out of his metaphors and made his way back to his motorcycle. They rode in silence, and they remained in silence until they sat on the couch once again.  
“Black?” Mark almost whispered again. He was afraid if he talked too loudly, Black would break, like a fragile statue made of glass. That’s how he looked, at least. “Do you want to drink something? I can make you a hot chocolate again. I promise I won’t piss you off and ask you to talk about emotions again.” Black nodded slowly, lower lip slightly twitching. Mark took to the kitchen, and in less than five minutes there was a warm mug of hot chocolate, decorated with whipped cream, marshmallows and cocoa powder, in Black’s hands. “I think it would be best to drink this and go to sleep, yeah?” Black didn’t answer. “Black, did you-“  
“It’s Jack.” Mark blinked.  
“What?”  
“My name. It’s Jack.” He sniffled.  
“Oh. Right. Uh, I’m Mark.” He scratched the back of his neck.  
“Nice to meet you, Mark.” Bla- no, Jack- said almost softly.  
“Likewise, Jack.” It was a nice name. It fit him, and Mark liked it.  
“Good night.” And just like that, he put his mug on the coffee table and lay down next to Mark, curling up so they wouldn’t touch each other. Mark took the hint and left for his room, relieved.  
But also very very confused.


	6. Back to usual, sort of...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is... back to normal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the chapter! :D

His dreams were frantic and frightening. He vaguely remembered waking up to sobs at one point, but convinced himself to go back to sleep, reasoning that Jack wanted to be alone, and that the last time he tried to get him to open up, he ran away.  
The next morning, Jack avoided any human interaction. His ear buds were stuck inside his ears, and when he wasn’t looking at his phone, he was glued to Mark’s computer screen, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was drinking coffee. Mark buried himself in his work, trying to convince himself that Jack just needed time, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling guilty every time he looked at Jack. It took him two days to break the silence.

Jack was sprawled on the couch, coffee mug in one hand and phone in the other.  
  
“Jack?” he asked gently, still afraid Jack would break if he spoke too loudly.

“Hm?” He didn’t look up. Mark scratched the back of his neck.

“Um… Are you ok?” He said quietly. Jack put his phone down and looked Mark dead in the eye. Mark swallowed. There was that icy cold look again.

“No.” he said shortly. Mark’s mouth went dry. Was he upset? Did Mark do something wrong? Was he going to- “Your coffee tastes like ass.” Jack deadpanned. Mark blinked, then broke into a huge grin, because if Jack was sarcastic it meant Jack was on his way to get back to normal. He smirked, and Mark felt all the tightness in his chest melt away.

“Seriously though, when are you gonna buy some _real_ coffee?”

Mark went back to his work with a light heart. He enjoyed his games more, and found that even writing the reviews wasn’t that exhausting anymore. After finishing the third out of the five reviews he had to file, he stood up, stretched, and went to his computer for some mindless Overwatch.

“Mark!” Jack’s voice called out of the living room. “I’m bored!”

“Well, why don’t you try playing some video games with me?” There was silence for a moment.

“Sounds boring.”

“Well, turn on the TV or something.” The sound of chattering from the TV followed soon after, but it took less than five minutes for it to stop and for Jack to appear at Mark’s door.

“Whatcha doin’?” Mark jumped. He didn’t notice Jack come in.

“I’m, uh, taking a break.” He turned in his chair and faced Jack, who narrowed his eyes.

“You’re taking a break from playing video games… by playing video games.” Mark chuckled.

“This one doesn’t require me to think as much.”

“Oh, then it’s perfect for you.”

“Hey!” Mark faked offense, but in truth, he couldn’t be more happy. It meant Jack was back to normal. Besides, Mark wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he kind of missed Jack’s jabs. “Just try it. I’m sure you’ll like it.” He said and stood up, offering the chair to Jack. He sat down, grabbed the mouse and started browsing through the different characters.

“Which one should I choose?” he said slowly.

“I usually go with Soldier:76. He’s the easiest to play, I think.”

“Seems legit.” He picked Soldier: 76 as well, and started a new game. He was really good, and in all honesty, Mark was starting to get a little jealous. After three rounds he got the hint and left for the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Jack’s dishes were still clogging the sink, but he forced himself not to care about that right now. Not when Jack was probably the happiest he’s been since he first arrived at Mark’s house. He sat on the couch in the living room and sipped his coffee peacefully, watching the TV and occasionally hearing a _“sonofabitch!”_ from his room. He didn’t know how much time passed before his eyes started drooping, but he dimly noticed somebody coming to sit next to him. He let his eyes close, too tired from all-nighters and nightmares of black smoke and puffy blue eyes. He felt his head slightly drooping to the side, and hitting something-

“Dude!” his eyes shot open and he saw Jack standing next to the TV, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. “I’m not your cuddle pillow.” He grumbled.

“Sorry, I just… I’m tired.” Jack’s eyes softened a tad, and he rolled them exasperatedly.

“Go to sleep, then.” He said quietly. Mark nodded and got up from the couch, heading to his room. He could swear he heard Jack mutter ‘ _amadán’_ before he collapsed on his bed and fell asleep. In his dreams, everything blurred together, blue eyes were obscured by tears, and voices echoes, blending together and creating an amalgamation of accents and languages, until they all focused into one particularly loud voice yelling:

“You MOTHER-“ He jumped out of his bed, turning blindly in a circle, the rush of blood to his head blinding him.

“Whowhatwhere?” He slurred as his vision slowly returned to him.

“No, I _told_ you to ambush him from the corner. Do you even know how to play this game?” The voice hissed.

“Jack?” Mark blinked, finally realizing that said loudmouth was sitting in front of his computer screen, headphones on and furiously clicking away. “Jack.” Still no response. Mark squinted at the clock – 6:00 am. He looked back at Jack, then tapped his shoulder. Jack jumped, then quickly threw the headphones off but continued playing.

“What?” he said, annoyed. (Mark did _not_ find the way he said it like ‘hwat’ cute, he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.)

“How long have you been playing for?” Mark asked tiredly.

“Uh, I dunno… What time is it?” Mark sighed.

“Have you been in my room all this time?”

“Uh-huh.”

“With the microphone on?”

“Uh-huh.”

“While I was _sleeping_?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Forget for a minute the fact that you could’ve woken me up-“

“You slept like a dead man.”

“That’s totally creepy and a total violation of my privacy.”

Jack was silent for a short moment.

“Uh-huh.”

Mark sighed, exasperated.

“Have you gotten _any_ sleep?”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

“I swear to god, it’s like taking care of a child…” Mark muttered. “Well, since you’re clearly not going to take care of yourself, I’m going to bring you breakfast.” Mark said, hoping to get some sort of reaction or jab about his cooking skills. All he got was a small “Uh-huh.”

Personally, Mark thought his breakfast looked and smelled great, so he didn’t really understand how Jack could refuse it. Which he did. As well as any other food or drink Mark had offered him. on a normal day, Mark wouldn’t have minded all that much – he got a lot of work done and Jack was pacified – except Jack was also constantly yelling at his teammates, saying that they weren’t doing it right. After jotting down a few notes about the soundtrack of the game he was testing, he got up, stretched, and tapped Jack on the shoulder again.

“What?” he sounded even crankier than before.

“You know, you’re being kind of a dick to your teammates.”

“So? I’m a dick to you all the time.” Mark’s eyebrows shot up. At least he was self-conscious.

“Yeah, but that’s different. The point of playing with a _team_ is that you try to help each other out, and have fun.”

“How can I have fun when these idiots keep ignoring what I say and making us lose?!” He threw his headphones off in annoyance as the losing screen came on.

“You can have fun without winning, y’know.”

“Pfft.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Well, you can ignore me if you want to, but I’m pretty sure soon enough they’ll kick you out. If you keep acting like this, that is.”

“Yeah, right. They wouldn’t be able to move two steps…” He trailed off as he realized he really was kicked out of the server. “ _Sons of BITCHES!_ ” he yelled, but quickly got on searching for a new server. Mark sighed deeply and decided he needed to clear his head. He took his most casual-looking outfit out of the closet, brushing past his super-hero costume by accident. He briefly wondered when he’ll be needing it again, seeing as his arch-nemesis was currently occupied and there were no attacks from the Mafia any time recently. He shook his head and dressed up in the bathroom, realizing that Jack wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

Clearing his head proved to be more trouble than it was worth. Every time he let his mind wander for even a bit the only images that came to him were those of wet blue eyes and black smoke, and Jack’s shaking figure rocking back and forth in the corner of that restaurant. He tried everything – going to the library, focusing on the cars passing by or even counting the bricks on the buildings, but nothing helped. He only knew that he _never_ wanted to see Jack like that again. He didn’t know why – he saw homeless people on the streets begging for money, and sure, it made his heart hurt, but it didn’t feel like a stab through the heart, like it did when he thought back to that restaurant.

Eventually he walked back into his apartment, more confused than he had left. He could hear Jack’s furious clicking from the living room.

“No, you-“ Jack grunted. “Just wait on the goddamn roof!” He then proceeded to turn off his microphone and hiss “dumbass!” into the air. Mark’s eyebrows shot up for the second time that day. Was Jack actually making an effort to be less mean? He wanted to hear more, just to make sure, but then his own stomach rumbled so he went into his room to drag Jack to lunch. But his words slightly caught in his throat when he saw that Jack was wrapped tightly in _his_ blanket.

“Uh… Jack?” he immediately turned around with a look of a deer caught in the headlights, and a slight blush dusted his cheeks.

“What?” Mark could tell he was trying to be cranky, but Jack wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Are you… wrapped in my blanket?”

“It was cold. Did you want me to freeze to death?” he said defensively. Mark was about to retort (it was very sunny outside) when he realized that the food and drinks next to Jack _still_ haven’t been touched, and it was nearing noon.

“Never mind that. Shut off the game, we’re going out.”

“What? Why?” He said, and Mark tried very hard not to squeal like a little girl at the way he said both ’hwat’ and ‘hwy’.

“Food, Jack, and fresh air.” Jack stared at him like he was stupid.

“I’m wanted by the Mafia, remember?” he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s why I have the perfect plan.” He smirked and sauntered to the computer, shutting it off.

“No! I was mid-game!” Jack whined.

“You haven’t done anything but play this game for the last 12 hours or so. You _need_ a change of scenery.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit hypocritical, coming from the quote-on-quote ‘Game Tester’?” he used air quotes to emphasize his point.

“That’s different!” Mark stuttered. “Besides, I make sure to _eat_ , _sleep_ , and _go out_ every once in a while.”

“Whatever.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Hypocritical _bastard_. What’s this big plan of yours, then?” Mark smirked and stepped to his closet, pulling out his one-way mirror helmet. He threw it to Jack.

“Suit up.”

Jack ended up borrowing some of Mark’s clothes just to make sure he wouldn’t be recognized. He was wearing Mark’s blue checkered flannel, while Mark himself was wearing a red one. He stuck to his black skinny jeans, though.

“This is stupid.” He muttered as he got on the motorcycle behind Mark and held onto it.

“No, it’s fun. Now shut up and hold on.”

“I am.” Mark turned around and spared a glance to Jack’s hands holding on to the back of the motorcycle.

“Like that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with it?” Mark shrugged.

“I’m just saying, holding onto me would probably be more stable.”

“You want me to _hug_ you? No thanks.” Jack visibly recoiled, but Mark couldn’t help but feel it was a bit forced.

“Suit yourself. Not my fault if you fall off.” Mark shrugged again and started the engine. He drove leisurely inside the city – slow enough that Jack could actually look around and admire the view of the brick buildings and the lanes of trees. It was sunny, which made it all the more beautiful – the sun reflected off of the windows in the buildings, making them shine. Mark drove to the center of the city, to his favorite take-out place, picked up some chicken and dumplings, and asked Jack to hold them while they drove to his favorite spot in the park.

“Well how am I supposed to do _that_ without falling?”

“I don’t know. Your problem, not mine.” Mark smirked and started the engine again. Jack yelped, but managed to balance himself. Mark swerved left, hearing Jack’s “ _Sweet fockin’ Jaysus_ ” before something desperately grabbed his shoulders and held on for dear life.

“Uh… Jack? I don’t mind you holding on to my shoulders, but it’s _kinda_ preventing me from steering properly.”

“Oh, you smug _bastard_. This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Mark asked innocently.

“Nothing,” He sighed, then muttered: ” _amadán…_ ” as he slowly wrapped his arms around Mark’s torso, holding the takeout between his arms and Mark’s back.

“See? Told you you’d find a solution.”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually try to keep to about a thousand words for each chapter but I just couldn't find a good place to stop, so it's just a little over 2000 this time... oh well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	7. Warming up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They start to warm up to each other...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for commenting and leaving Kudos!   
> It really means a lot to me! :D

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know, right? It’s my favorite spot in the park.” They sat down in the shade of a cypress tree, cross legged and looking anywhere but each other.

“The food’s probably cold by now.” Jack said quietly.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” Mark held the box of takeout in his hands, and willed his hands to warm up.

“Show-off…” Jack mumbled. They ate in silence, taking in the sounds of nature, Mark’s helmet sat between them.

“You know’ I never actually stopped to look at everything. In the city, I mean.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was just… So busy running all the time, I never considered to just take a break.” They were silent for a while. “Um… I guess… Thanks.” Mark’s eyebrows shot up for what felt like the thousandth time. Jack just kept surprising him.

“Sure.” Mark looked to the trees, smiling. And then something cold and awfully familiar hit his chest. He looked down, and saw ice coating his entire torso. He rolled his eyes and started thawing it.

“What was that for?”

“Payback.” Jack said calmly.

“For what?!”

“Making me hug you.”

“I didn’t make you-“ But then another bolt of ice hit his leg, so he took the hint and shut up.

“Seriously, though, I’ve never…” Jack started, looking distant, then shook his head. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“What do you mean?” Mark studied him.

“I’ve been nothing but a major asshole, and you’re just… nice.”

“Well, you can’t fight asshole-ry with asshole-ry. I figured, if I were nice long enough, you’d-“

“But you let me stay in your _house_ , Mark.” Mark’s heart skipped a beat at Jack’s pronunciation of his name. “People don’t just _do_ that.”

“I… I don’t know. I guess… I guess I-“ Mark froze. What _did_ he guess? “I don’t know, Jack.” They fell into a comfortable silence. “It’s getting late, we should head back. Put the helmet on.” Jack did as Mark told him to do in silence, and followed him to his motorcycle. As Mark started the engine, he felt Jack’s thin arms wrap around his torso. He made a noise of surprise, blushing slightly.

“What? I don’t want to fall.” Jack said defensively. Mark just smirked and drove home.

***

“Wanna watch a movie?” Mark asked as soon as they entered the apartment.

“Actually…” Jack started, but seemed to contemplate something. He stared at Mark for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

They unceremoniously plopped down on the couch in front of the TV, and Mark turned on the first movie that came on. It happened to be Guardians of the Galaxy.

“Oh, this is a great movie.” Jack said and curled into a ball on the couch.

“Yeah…” Mark said, distracted by his thoughts once again. “Why do you do that?” He asked as Star-Lord finished his dancing scene.

“Do what?” Jack didn’t look at him.

“Curl up in a ball like that.”

“Uh…” Jack looked to him. “I dunno. I guess it’s just comfortable.”

“Hm.” Mark didn’t completely believe that, but seeing Jack curled up like that made him want to wrap him up in a blanket and make him some hot-chocolate, so instead of arguing, he got up to do the latter.

“Where are you going?”

“To make hot chocolate.”

“Uh… Why?”

“You look like you could use it.” Jack was taken aback. He waited until Mark returned with his drink to ask:

“How can someone look like they need hot chocolate?”

“Oh shut up and drink it.” Mark grumbled. Jack complied. He enjoyed the movie, even if it was his fifth time watching it. Mark, on the other hand, was studying Jack. He felt an unexplainable urge to keep him safe, and it bothered him. he only met Jack properly a couple of days ago, and they were arch-nemeses before then – he shouldn’t be feeling this… whatever it was he was feeling. He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice Jack’s eyes drooping as he started falling to Mark’s side. Mark pretended he didn’t feel a blooming warmth in his chest when Jack’s head fell against his shoulder. He let his own eyes drift closed, more content somehow.

He didn’t know how long he was sleeping before he was woken up once again by Jack’s sobs. He was still leaning against Mark’s shoulder, except now he was sniffling and furiously wiping his eyes.

“Jack?” Mark asked quietly. Jack’s eyes shot open, welling up with new tears.

“I’m s-sorry.” He hiccupped. “I just-sorry.” He got up, but Mark grabbed his forearm.

“Jack, it’s okay. Really.” Jack didn’t move. “Jack, I- I know it’s hard to believe, but… I’m here for you. Whether you want to talk or just a shoulder to cry on… I’m here.” Jack stood still for a few moments, before his resolve crumbled and he crashed back into Mark’s side, sobs wreaking through his body and making him shake. Mark enveloped him in a hug, rubbing circles on his back, and comforting him with silent whispers of “it’s okay,” and “you’re safe.”. Jack slowly calmed down, sobs turning into silent hiccups. “The reason I curl up like that is because I feel safer that way.” His voice trembled. “Protected from the world.” His breathing slowly evened out, and he curled up again, this time buried in Mark’s arms and side. Mark carded his fingers through Jack’s hair – worried because of his words, but at the same time amused at how much Jack resembled a cat. Eventually he let himself drift back to sleep, arms tightly hugging Jack’s thin form.

***

The first feeling he woke up to was cold. He didn’t mind, exactly – it was pressed against his side, and wrapped around his torso. It felt like he was being hugged by snow, soft and gentle. He cracked his eyes open, and felt a small spark of warmth igniting in his chest at the sight of Jack’s face scrunched up against his side, and his arms gently wrapped around Mark. He willed the warmth to spread to his arms and fingertips, rubbing Jack’s arms and back in an attempt to warm him up. Jack stirred awake, and hummed slightly.

“The cold doesn’t bother me, y’know.” He slurred sleepily.

“How can you be so cold?”

“Well, how can you be so hot?”

“Why, thank you.” Mark smirked.

“Shut up, _amadán_ , you know what I meant.” Jack shoved Mark’s shoulder, but Mark just smile, feeling Jack warm up as he snuggled his cold nose into Mark’s neck. They just sat there for a little while, Mark serving as a living furnace for them both.

“Why do you do this?” Jack asked silently.

“Do what?” Mark asked, puzzled.

“All… this.” He vaguely gestured at them. Mark thought for a moment, trying to pick the right words.

“Because I care.”

“Why?” The reply comes instantly.

“I… I don’t understand what you’re asking.” Jack turns away, not facing him.

“It’s just… I’ve been such a massive douche to you, and… you still care. Why?” Mark studied Jack’s face, making sure he really was serious.

“Because I believe everyone deserves a second chance. _You_ deserve a second chance, Jack. I don’t believe you’re a bad person.” He recalled the way Jack looked at the chicks in the game like they were the best things in the world at that moment. He’d do a lot to see that look again.

“But I am.” Jack almost pleaded. “Can’t you see that? I’m a piece of shit human being, and I don’t deserve anything. Certainly not someone like you.” His head was in his hands.

“Jack, I-“

“No. No, if I stay here any longer, I’ll just hurt you. I know it.” He got up and started pacing. Then he picked up his bag.

“Jack,” Mark started apprehensively, “What are you-“

“Thanks for everything.” And with a flash, he was gone. Just like that, Mark lost the very thing he promised himself to protect. He didn’t even have a way to contact Jack. Where would he go? Back to the Mafia? Will he live on the streets? It didn’t matter, Mark decided. He would find him. He _had_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're nearing the end of this fic! I'm going to post the final chapter in two days, as well as a sort of final author's note about the whole thing, where I'll talk more about all kinds of things and stuff :D (very vague, I know, but you'll see what I mean)


	8. Come back home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally comes to a close...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! The next one is sort of a final Author's note...  
> I really hope you like this!

It’s been a week. Mark has combed through the entire city – by foot, with his motorcycle – anything he could think of. There was no sign of Jack anywhere. Mark was slowly losing his mind – the house was too empty without Jack, the air too still. He didn’t realize it, but Mark was used to Jack’s energy radiating everywhere and buzzing life into everything.  
But now, everything was still, quiet. Mark felt almost as though his own heart stopped beating. He was so lost in thought he almost didn’t notice his phone buzzing.  
+1337805429: Mark Fischbach?  
You: Who is this?  
+1337805429: If you want to see Black Blizzard, come to the alleyway on Tenth Avenue tonight at 6 p.m.  
You: Who are you? How did you get this number?  
You: How do you know where Black is?  
You: Is this the Mafia?  
Mark paced around, trying to think. He knew he couldn’t let this go. Even if it was a trap, he had to take the risk. He was losing his mind just sitting there.  
You: I’ll be there.  
6 p.m. came sooner than Mark had expected. He rode his motorcycle to the address he was sent, and shut off the engine, stepping quietly into the alley.  
“Red Spark,” A strangely accented voice said. “Sean really did do a number on you.” A man stepped out of the shadows, making himself only slightly known in the dim light.  
“What are you talking about?” He took a defensive stance. The man just chuckled.  
“Come on, Sean. Time to finish the job.” He called, and Mark could see another figure shifting in the shadows. The man who spoke snapped his fingers, and two buff men stepped out as well, trying to wrestle Mark to the ground. He willed fire to ignite his fingertips and sent a wave of flames around him, punching one of the goons in the jaw for good measure. They were stunned for a moment, and Mark took this chance to examine the second figure stepping out of the shadows. The fire died down instantly. The two men recovered and forced Mark to his knees, but he didn’t even fight. He just held his gaze on the eyes of the man in front of him. ‘I should’ve known.’ Echoed in Mark’s head as Jack came into the light, the gun in his hand pointed at Mark’s chest. His heart, as well as the most of his brain, refused to believe it. He had lived with Jack for more than a week, he saw the way he was. Jack wasn’t a bad person. He cried at the beginning of Ori and the Blind Forest, for crying out loud! Yet the small, nagging, logical part of his brain reminded him that Jack was a member of the Mafia, and he never really did tell Mark why they were after him.  
“Jack…” he whispered. Jack continued stepping forward slowly, until he was less than a foot away from Mark’s chest. His hand was shaking violently, and his eyes – gods, his eyes made Mark want to cry. The icy glaciers that once circled his pupils were now completely shattered, and he was silently crying. His lower lip was quivering, but he held Mark’s gaze, mouthing something over and over again.  
“I used you.” He winced with every word, his voice strained. “The Mafia sent me to you to learn more about you, make you vulnerable.” Mark’s heart sank. But… this couldn’t be right. Jack was gritting his teeth, and the tears kept streaming down his face. He sounded like he was suffering.  
“Come on, Sean. Enough with theatrics. Get it over with.” The man said impatiently. Jack shut his eyes, still mouthing something softly. Mark thought back to all those moments that made him think Jack wasn’t a bad person – the chicks, Overwatch, Ori and the Blind Forest. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Mark tear between following his heart and listening to logic. Jack took two steps closer, pressing the gun to Mark’s chest. His heartbeat reverberated through the cold metal. Jack’s hand was shaking even worse now. He seemed to move it upward, and he was still mouthing something. Mark’s eyes darted between the gun and Jack’s face. The realization hit him like a train, and he gasped. He’s seen this before – there was a thin ring of red around Jack’s pupils. He was being controlled, and he was fighting it, he didn’t want to kill Mark, he had a plan! He was going to-  
Mark almost got a heart attack. The gun was now rotated at 90 degrees from his chest, and still going.   
Jack was going to shoot himself. To save Mark.  
“Goodbye, Mark.” He forced out, and in the space of two seconds, Mark tore his hands away from his captors, grabbed the gun from Jack’s hands and as he threw it to the side he spun around him, lighting a spark at the base of his heels, and engulfed Jack in a protective hug as he stomped on the ground, sending a wave of heat through the ground, which spread to a feet radius and ignited in a tall wall of fire. The flames startled the man in the shadows and his goons, and Jack immediately relaxed into Mark’s embrace. The words he mouthed echoed in Mark’s mind: “I love you… I’m sorry…”  
“You have nothing to be sorry for…” He whispered into Jack’s ear as the flames roared around them. “It wasn’t your fault.”  
They escaped quickly, riding Mark’s motorcycle back to the apartment in silence. Jack was still drying his tears as they entered the apartment. Mark locked the door, then spun around to Jack, cupping his face in his hands.   
“Hey. Listen to me. It wasn’t your fault.” Jack sniffled and nodded slightly. “I’ll be right back. Sit down, you must be exhausted.” He called, making his way to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he walked back into the living room with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. He spotted Jack on the couch and handed him the mug. Jack sipped quietly.  
“Don’t blame yourself, Jack. For anything. Don’t you dare. I know what happened. You know I wasn’t going to let you do that, don’t you?”  
“Yeah.” Jack’s voice was hoarse.  
“Jack.” Mark said firmly. Jack wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Jack, look at me.” Reluctantly, he did. “He was controlling you. It wasn’t you. You were not going to kill me, and I was not going to let you kill yourself. And I hope to god it wasn’t something you were contemplating before, because, Jack, you are not a bad person. Not just that, you are good. A person like you must’ve had a reason to join the Mafia, so I am not judging you, I never will, and neither should you yourself.” Jack swallowed thickly. He looked like he was about to protest, so Mark cut him off with a: “No Jack, you listen to me. You are nothing but good and you deserve all of the good this world has to offer, and I’m going to do my best to give it to you, because you deserve it, Jack. No bad person would get excited about chicks, ok Jack? So you are not allowed to blame yourself, or feel guilty, or think that you are bad. I just won’t allow it.” Jack nodded, looking shocked.  
“How did you know?”   
“You had a red ring around your pupils. And…” Jack looked at him fearfully. “Like I said, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Jack frowned slightly. Mark took a deep breath and cupped Jack’s face again, slowly reducing the gap between them. He studied Jack’s lips-chapped, swollen from Jack’s biting them with worry, and turned down from his frown. Mark wanted nothing more than to replace that frown with that smirk Mark grew to adore. He locked eyes with Jack’s, who were widened with surprise and a bit of hope, drowning in a sea of molten sapphire. Their breath mingled as Mark whispered: ”And I love you too.” Before Jack could respond, he caught his lips with his own, and though they were chapped, and Jack’s beard was scratchy, and even though it was a mix of salty and sweet and bitter with Jack’s tears and Mark’s hot chocolate, it was the best feeling in the world, and Mark just knew it was the beginning of something amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Please feel free to leave comments! :D


	9. Author's note

Aaaand we’re at the end!  
Honestly, I still can’t believe the amount of support this fic has gotten. I haven’t said it enough, but THANK YOU so much! You have no idea how much the Kudos and comments mean to me! They really encourage me to write more, and that’s something that makes me really happy, so thank you!  
I actually wanted to talk about a couple of things here.  
First off, gratitude. I really want to thank my good friend (you know who you are if you’re reading this) who has encouraged me to create this account, has given me the idea for it and encouraged me to keep writing it. I want to thank all the other people who supported my writing of this even if they thought it was weird, which means a lot to me, and which also brings me to my next point:  
I am proud to say that even though this fic is based on the Septiplier ship, it could still have been a stand-alone thing. And a lot of times while writing and while posting it, I almost changed everything into OCs because of everything that’s been happening lately. It made me feel shitty a lot of times, so I sometimes really just wanted to go back and change it all into OCs. But I didn’t, and that’s thanks to two of my good friends, who reminded me that as long as I know that it’s completely fictional, and mean no harm (both of which apply to me), it’s fine. So thanks to them again, and that also brings me to my next point (yes I know I’m rambling I’m sorry):  
I will not post anymore Septiplier. If I ever do write any ship things, it will probably be fictional characters or OCs. I’m truly sorry if this disappoints you, but that’s just what feels right to me right now.  
One last thing:   
If you like my writing style, first of all OH MY GOSH THANK YOU!! And secondly, I have a tumblr that is open for asks, requests and prompts if you deem me worthy of writing them :D (it’s @tastybrownie)  
Anyway, thanks again to everyone who has supported me on this and especially you guys, who have read, left a Kudos and commented on my work. It means the world to me, and it brings a smile to my face every time I think about it. I just hope I managed to bring a smile to your faces as well :D  
Have a good one ;D

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!  
> Comments, Kudos and criticism are all always appreciated, just please be nice, I am fragile ^-^  
> [ Buy me a coffee :) ](https://ko-fi.com/tastybrownies)


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